Half the Battle
by songsofcerulean
Summary: During a perplexing conversation, Captain Janeway tires of dancing around Kathryn's truth. 1/1


"I cannot believe you are not angry at me." The words were clearly, but softly spoken.

With my back to her, my eyes are turned toward the stars, but my gaze never penetrate past the barrier of transparent aluminum. She requires a response. "How could I be angry with you? You couldn't have known."

But I should have made myself clear. I should have spoke with less innuendo, fewer metaphors and followed through with direct statements to spur on conversations that have never been.

"It's not your fault, Seven, you couldn't have known," I reiterate. For a moment I'm pleased that my voice still comes out sounding strong, still ever in control, but the next breath I take is shallow, sitting high in my chest. As my throat begins to constrict, I know I cannot risk her staying in my quarters much longer.

Two long, gentle strides bring her to stand just behind me to my left. Even from this distance, the heat from her radiates through the layers of my uniform, and I wonder briefly if she knows that I can feel her soft exhales against my neck. Goosebumps rise over my skin and for a moment I regret cutting my hair as its length could have shielded me from the cold that is left in the wake of Seven's breath.

"Captain," she covers her hesitation by stepping around me in an effort to look me in the eye, "I find myself confused as to the nature of your reaction."

My attempt to inhale may have caused me to choke on my tongue. If it weren't for my focus being on clearing my throat because of that, the sudden stabbing sensation in my side would surely have gotten a stronger reaction. This is it. This is one of those moments where our communication goes completely awry, where I fail to ask for the all-important clarification. "And what do you think my reaction is?"

Why did I ask that? I don't want to discuss this. I want her out. No, no that's not what I want, but it will do for now, because I can't stand the thought of her watching me while I pretend I'm not struggling to breathe. I want to gasp in solace.

"You are… withdrawn. I believe you are hurt. I wish for you to know that I never intended to transgress upon the establishment of your relationship." I'm sure she sees my eye twitch at that. Turning on my heel, I find a handy excuse to move away—coffee is always a grand excuse. "Had I known of your feelings for the commander I never would have embarked upon a relationship with him."

I'm frozen for a moment, staring into space. _My feelings for the commander. _ My glorified toaster stares blankly back at me. I suppose I should order, "Scotch, neat." That's not coffee. I pause to take a sip. It's definitely not coffee. "Would you care for something?"

"I do not require liquid refreshment at this time." Sometimes I wonder why I ask.

As much as I'd rather be having a conversation with my replicator... I take a seat on my chaise and gesture for her to sit as well. "The commander and I are just friends."

"You would have it be more, would you not?" Her question throws me momentarily. How much to tell? "Your reaction to this situation would indicate that—"

"No." That came out as a command, not part of a conversation, damn it. "No, Seven. I would not change the status of my relationship with Commander Chakotay."

"But you do harbor non-platonic urges towards him."

She's serious enough with that statement that it amuses me and I have to hide my half-smirk behind another sip of my drink. "Seven, I haven't harbored urges towards him in a while."

I suppose she realize she's made a syntax error. "Emotions, then." Her eyes are riveted on me and I'm beginning to wonder if this isn't just an uncomfortable conversation, but more of an interrogation. Whatever it is, I want to put an end to it.

"Seven, listen to me very carefully, because I am only going to say this once," she leans toward me slightly as I set my drink on the coffee table with a light clink. "I am not in love with Commander Chakotay."

I'd expect an immediate response, normally. Something along the lines of 'That is an acceptable answer, Captain. Goodnight,' but she makes me wait a bit longer than usual. Her blonde head tilts slightly and an eyebrow and implant furrow. "If that is the case, then I am at a loss as to your response to what should be joyous news."

My side aches, I've forgotten to breathe and for a moment I fear I've painted myself into a corner. "On the contrary, I wish you and the Commander all the happiness in the universe." Seven's eyes scan my face. "Please forgive me if I gave you any other impression."

"Yes, of course, Captain."

My eyes finally leave hers, and I reach for my scotch again. "It's getting late, Seven."

"Yes, Captain." As she stands to leave, I stand as well, resuming my place at the window.

"Goodnight, Seven." A gulp of scotch burns its way down my throat. I hear the door to my quarters open. When they fail to close I turn to face them.

"Captain, am I the reason?" If I can feel the blood drain from my face, I hope she cannot see it in my dim quarters. Seven steps towards me, and the light from the corridor is once again locked outside.

My voice is more gravelly than usual, probably because I just downed the last of my scotch, "I'm sorry?"

"You said I couldn't have known."

"So I did."

"But you said you're not in love with the Commander."

"What about it?"

"And you're not angry with me—"

"I'm about to be."

"—because I couldn't have known." She's right in front of me now, looking down on me, and I am reminded of how short I feel without my boots. "Captain, the only things I can't possibly know are the things you don't tell me." I try meeting her eyes, and end up letting my gaze wander across her face. "Captain. Is there something I should know?"

Inhaling, I catch the scent that is distinctly her. What was I thinking earlier? Less innuendo, fewer metaphors, direct statements. Our eyes meet.

"Yes."


End file.
